Sui Generis - A SenHanaRu Fiction
by Liez
Summary: Three people, two worlds, one love. Chapters 24 and 25 up. [Completed] Updated 26/3/02
1. Author's Note

Author's Note

This story marks my return to the Slam-Dunk fiction series. While I like to think that I've gotten better with experience, ideas, suggestions and constructive criticism are still welcome to be mailed to me at liez@crazywriters.zzn.com. Flames will not be tolerated. 

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me but the story.

Rights: No part of my works whatsoever is to be reproduced without my permission. 


	2. Prologue

Prologue

He was so tired.

As he moved up the last few steps of the flight of stairs, he paused, shaking his auburn hair out his eyes. The past few days had been hectic, what with all the wedding plans being put on hold. He didn't know if he would ever regain the mentality to go through with it, but Haruko had understood enough to agree to postpone the marriage for a while. He had told her that he was troubled and that he had to clear his mind up if he were to marry her with no regrets.

Sakuragi Hanamichi pushed the swinging door open and stepped out into the familiar corridor, pausing as his eyes took in the brightness and adjusted to it. As he moved silently towards his apartment, the third door on the left, his hands fumbled in his pocket for the key. Finding it, he put it in the lock and turned it just as a hand reached out from his left and pulled the door shut.

A low chuckle, and he turned to meet a pair of smiling, tired blue eyes which brightened the small smile on full rose-red lips he remembered vividly. Even the scent of him was familiar, comforting and alive. But there was something else… 

Over that broad shoulder was another equally bright, calm sapphire gaze that took his breath away.

"Hanamichi."


	3. Chance meeting

Chapter One

"Hanamichi!"

The redhead turned just in time to avoid being run over by the boisterous young man who jumped down to greet him. 

"You're early," Yohei Mito noted with a laugh, glancing at his watch. Hanamichi shrugged and grinned. "One of my last days of being a bachelor! I have to appreciate it, you know!"

"So how does it feel?"

"How does it feel to what?"

"Be getting married to Haruko-chan!!"

"Oh," Hanamichi smiled foolishly, scratching his head. "It feels…good?"

Yohei could only laugh harder as he wrapped his arm around his friend's shoulders. "Now come on for dinner, the rest are already waiting at the restaurant. We've got a special treat for you after that."

@@@

"Got a job today?" the older man asked, lazing comfortably back on the large cushions which lined the walls of their shared apartment. The slimmer man nodded, his hands deftly gelling back his ebony locks and pulling it back into a neat cap so it wouldn't interfere with his work. Stepping closer to the mirror, he drew out a long brush and began applying the foundation to his cheeks in swift sure strokes. 

The taller man came up behind him and wrapped his arms about the slim waist, savoring in the touch for a moment before one hand snaked out to pick the smaller cosmetics brush up. Turning the younger man around, he stared for a moment into the lidded blue eyes and admired the flawless, powdered-white complexion, and wordlessly, he shifted slightly and dipped the brush into the compact case, drawing out some glittering blue eyeshadow and picking up the slim liner. Expertly, he drew the kohl about the closed eyes and then smudged the color onto the pale eyelids, spreading it with his thumb and rounding it about the contours of the fine-boned face. He dropped the liner and moved to pick up the wide-tipped brush, shaking it in the larger compact and obtaining a generous amount of pale blush, which he worked carefully onto the shadows of the sharp cheekbones and drew down to the collarbone. Lastly, he looked into a box, and after a few moments, chose a tube, which he opened and twisted, carefully painting the soft lips a shade of dark crimson. Setting the brushes down, he stepped back and smiled.

"There. All done."

@@@

[A few hours later]

"That was a great dinner, you guys!" Hanamichi smiled at his colleagues and friends who had gathered to toast his approaching marriage and celebrate the last of his bachelor days with him. "Thank you all for coming!"

As most of the large group dispersed, Yohei pulled Hanamichi to one side where Noma, Takamiya and Ookusu were already waiting. This group had come a long way with him, being that they were together even before high school and then attended the same university before branching out to work in the various sectors of society.

"Eh, Hanamichi, we've got a special present for you!" Takamiya grinned cheekily at his friend before Yohei shoved him quiet and turned to the redhead with a laugh. "Let's go."

@@@

Stepping into Hanamichi's apartment, Yohei glanced at his watch. The rest tumbled onto the large, matching living room décor, onto the bright yellow cough and the carpeted beige floor. The soft warm glow of the lights turned the room into what very much resembled a private lounge, especially with the hall stereo flipped on and the tiny disco balls rotating slightly in the four corners of the room. _Hanamichi landed the best job among all of us, _Yohei reflected with a smile to himself. _And here we were all teasing him about becoming an architect...this house is amazing._

"Here, some drinks!" Hanamichi called as he emerged from the kitchen, tossing the various cans at his brawling friends. Noma opened the can and tossed it as the foam came sputtering out. "Ack!"

"NOMA! WATCH THE CARPET!"

Too late, as the bright red liquid gurgled happily into the interior of the floor. Hanamichi yelled and jumped onto the other man who was laughing too hard to fight back. The rest could only shake their heads. Twenty-one years old, and still children at heart, all of them.

The doorbell rang.


	4. Connection

Chapter Two

He waited outside silently, hearing the laughter and the yells that were coming from within the apartment. The corridor was brightly lit, and he disliked it. It made him feel exposed despite the late hour. He was mildly relieved of his thoughts when the door opened.

@@@

Yohei stood in the doorway, looking the man over. He was covered with a floor-length trench coat of black leather, and the collar reached up, to cover his neck and frame his partially masked face. He smiled to himself. Hanamichi would be in for the shock of his life.

@@@

"NANI?! A male stri—"

_I could just leave if you don't want the show,_ the performer thought silently as he unbuttoned the coat and let it fall to the floor. _After all, I've already been paid._

"He's a dancer, Hanamichi, a dancer."

"But he's going to—!"

"This is your last night to try something new and exciting!"

Silence.

"Do you think Haruko-chan would allow you to have fun of this nature?"

Silence.

He walked stealthily, his bare feet making no noise, his shoes abandoned at the doorway. His head was bowed slightly, his fingers clasping lightly onto the small disc. _I can't wait for this to be over. _ He paused at the junction of the corridor and the living room.

The dark-haired man who had greeted him at the door beckoned to him smilingly. "It's okay. Do begin when you're ready. The stereo is over there."

He nodded and moved over to the player, his slim fingers deftly retrieving his own music and inserting it into the machinery, pressing the Play button and turning around as the rhythm started.

@@@

Hanamichi gulped, sandwiched in between a giggling Takamiya and a laughing Yohei on the couch. The sensual strains of an instrumental flooded the room, insidiously filling the air with smoky warmth and promise. And as he watched, the man, clothed in black pants and a hugging, sleeveless black shirt, turned to face them, his movement abrupt as the rhythm jolted to a stop.

Mechanically, at the exact time of the heavy sound of the drums burst into life, the man started to move, and he felt his mouth go dry.

Sliding forward on one foot, arms lifting in a fluid motion, the man flicked his wrists and entwined them about his slender body, dappling like a bending blade of grass. Then he launched into the dance, a graceful, swirling myriad of steps that took the breath away just by looking. 

The rhythm intensified, pounding into the ears of those present with its inexplicable rage and tension. And then he paused as the music changed again, into a soft, layering wave of instrumental music that faded, slowly, slowly…as he brought his hands down onto his waist, across his body, embracing himself like a lover, and then with one swift gesture, rid his upper body of the black cloth covering it. 

An animalistic growl broke from the slender, white throat as he tossed his head back and surveyed them from the corner of his eye. _The mask…_Hanamichi was entranced by the mask. Bottle-green and elaborately decorated in make, it faded colors from a deep forest jade to a crystal sea in the shifting light, the up-turned corners of silver and gold catching and reflecting the warmth in the room. It covered his face from brow to the top of his lips, which were stained a rich shade of color that brought the pale skin around it to vitality and glowing luminescence. 

And his movements…as the man spun again and gyrated his hips to the varying tempo of the sounds that filled his consciousness, he noticed that the body was slim and well-sculpted, fair and subtly muscled. He traced a shimmering trail of perspiration up…up, until he was looking at the mask again. Set in the mask, stony eyes the shade of the coldest blue, enhanced by the dark sensuous lines of kohl that drew on the slant of the eyelids backed by a brilliant cast of silver-white. The man's head whipped up and that stony gaze met a slightly flustered one. A small, mirthless smile curved the corner of the full mouth as he stripped down to a pair of slinky black briefs, his piercing stare locked with that of a shocked honey-brown gaze. 


	5. Familiarity

Chapter Three

In the darkness, the heat had become stifling. His eyes locked onto that of the redhead, savoring the emotions that flitted restlessly in that wine-colored gaze as he twirled and traced the contours of his body to the music. 

__

Please don't turn me on

It's getting late I know I should be gone

Don't push me 'cos I'm not that strong

He had reached the farthest he went in the show, but the music was still playing, the enticing fingers of rhythm and sound wrapping about his body and filling his senses, almost palpable to the touch. He moved his hips in lazy circles and trailed it with a graceful hand gesture.

__

Please don't touch me there…

Stop playing with my mind it's not fair

The one with the impossibly red hair garnered his attention. Perhaps it was the mood he was in, or perhaps it was the lighting combined with the music, but he found himself taking detracted interest in his customer that night.

__

Won't you keep your distance?

You're getting too close to me

I've been feeling my resistance

Melting away

As he moved, unconsciously, lost in the throes of the familiar rhythm he always performed to, he observed the one in particular absentmindedly. 

He had skin that appeared like molten bronze in the dim light, and his long formal shirt had long since abandoned its top buttons, exposing a chest that was firm and hard. The loose black dress pants skimmed the floor, covering his feet to the carpet, clothing long legs that stretched over the couch. Features the equivalent of a painting, even and symmetrical, a well-formed face, with a sharp jaw-line, large slanted eyes, a straight nose and a full, almost-girlish mouth. Almost unconsciously, he reached up a hand to touch his own lips, just a slight brush before he turned again, a side profile in the dimness. 

__

I think I stayed too long  
I forget where I belong  


The music would be ending soon, he knew, but something was different about tonight. He didn't want it to end. 

__

Put your hands where I can see  
Baby, you know what I mean  
'Cos you're looking good to me  
And you know I feel the heat  


A thin film of perspiration marked his body as he prepared himself for the final pose, and hit it right on time, the last thump of the drum echoing round and round the room as he stilled, breathing evenly, holding it for a few moments before inclining his head slightly and moving away, out of sight, into the shadows of the corridor, where he had tossed his clothes.

Moments later, those in the room heard the soft 'click' of the door as it opened. The tape had been paid for. It was all in the package.

@@@

"That was—interesting," Yohei commented as Takamiya screeched and shuddered in the corner.

"That was—SCARY," Noma corrected the dark-haired boy, who scratched his head sheepishly.

"I don't know, I thought it was rather nice," Yohei grinned and looked over at Ookusu, who was just about having a nosebleed. "Hmph. What do you think, Hanamichi? Was it worth the cash? It wasn't cheap you know!"

Takamiya groaned from the couch. Hanamichi looked up, his expression unreadable for a few moments. "It wasn't bad," he said at last, smiling at Yohei. "I enjoyed it."

@@@

His lover was waiting downstairs in the black sedan. Pulling his trench coat closer over his shoulders, he slipped past the swinging doors of the main entrance and reached the car, one smooth hand reaching out to clasp the handle and pull the car door open. Slipping inside, he let his things fall to the ground as he stared straight ahead.

"You look beautiful."

Closing his eyes, he let himself be pulled over, and smiled slightly as he felt the barest touch of a light kiss on his brow. As always, the familiar scent of the other's cologne and shower gel melded together to form a sensuous, comforting embrace. He leaned further into the security of the arms that held him, and planted a soft peck on the neck of the taller boy. "You're not half bad yourself."

He felt Sendoh's lips curl into a smile against his forehead. _Kaede…_


	6. Remembering

Chapter Four

[The next day]

"The pictures are out, darling. Have you seen them yet? They look fantastic!" Mrs. Sakuragi beamed at her son, who was stretched out along the couch in a pair of comfortable jeans, half-asleep. She smiled tenderly down at the prone body as she bustled back and forth in her preparation for the evening's gathering between family and friends, a pre-wedding banquet if she did say so herself. Wiping her slightly floured hands on her apron, she hurried back into the kitchen and proceeded to shape another pastry.

Back in the living room, Hanamichi appeared to lay dozing, but his thoughts were another matter altogether.

Eyes.

_He had blue eyes._

As if in slow motion, the dance from last night replayed itself in its head, every slight movement to the locking of gazes with the man he knew nothing of. 

Skin.

_He had the palest skin._

Frustrated, he turned and grabbed a cushion, burying his face into it as his thoughts rambled wildly. What was wrong with him?

Perhaps it's just the shock. It was something completely new, after all. No thanks to Yohei.

The reception was tonight. _I shouldn't be thinking about insignificant things. I should get some rest. _

Yet, even as he fell asleep, the image of smoky, intense eyes in a bed of green and silver haunted him.

@@@

The two bodies lay tangled up in the white sheets as the afternoon sun streamed in through the large, paneled glass windows of the penthouse, reflecting bluish rays off the tinted surfaces. 

The bed, set in the center of the large room, was a double-sized and sculpted in the traditional style, set low on the ground and surrounded by a wooden step, the same make as the parquet tiling on the floor. Green plants bedecked the corners of the large room and framed the two doorways, one leading to the spacious kitchen and the other to the main door. The walls were painted an appealing beige, and the hidden air-conditioner provided plenty of cool in the hot climate of everyday. 

The older man awoke first, opening his eyes blearily to the warmth of the sun lighting the entire room. Brushing his fringe out of his eyes, he shifted slightly and felt the warmth of the other fall against his body, effectively waking him. Smiling down at the other dark-haired man, he allowed himself to lie back against the cool pillows and enjoy the moment.

He was one year older than the performer they called Lincoln, but the outward similarities between them had prompted the newcomer to be talked of as his partner, as indeed he had intimately become. Yet, he remembered the first day he had opened the door to the bowed head, the withdrawn demeanor, the cold eyes. Through the weeks of training and tutelage, he had managed to break through the younger man's icy shell, had warmed to him as a friend would, and only later realize that Rukawa Kaede had taken his heart.

As lovers, they had been together four years now. In the world where dance was an expression, their affection was regarded as nothing more than a sincere, professional partnership. Yet they knew better, for there had been many incidents over the years, events in which one would disappear for long weeks, and the other follow. No one ever got close to Lincoln the way Malcolm did. He laughed as he remembered how their names had been chosen, when their manager had pointed out the fact that the younger –was– his student and thus, in the old way, deserved to have a name that befitted his teacher. And they had stayed the same, stayed together, even as they grew, and learned and matured.

He suddenly felt the gaze of another on his face, and looked down to catch startling blue eyes looking up at him. Wordlessly, he bent down and planted a soft kiss on the slightly-parted lips. 

"What were you thinking about?"

He raised his eyebrows, as he sat up and leaned against a large clump of pillows, looking directly at Rukawa. "Mmm?"

"You looked so serious."

Sendoh smiled. "I was thinking about us." _And how I love you._


	7. Possessiveness

Chapter Five

He finished his shower and walked out into the bright light, closing his eyes slightly against the glare of the afternoon sun. "Do you have anything on today?"

Sendoh looked up and gave a lopsided smile. "Later in the night. A booking for one of the many parties in our day and age."

He felt the age-old jealousy again as his mind flashed to all sorts of scenarios that could take place from one performance. The first time he had seen Malcolm dance…

*Flashback

The lights were down low, only a stark white one that was barely visible through the stained glass of the room. He watched as the tall man pressed a button on the player, and then music had flooded the room.

Blue eyes met blue eyes, bold and laughing, as the one who would be his teacher showed him how to make the best of his youth's agility and suppleness. Bending and twisting, swirling and bowing, in the most intricate of weaving steps, the soft music curling and enveloping more and more about the slender white body…

*End of Flashback

He had gone mad that day. And truly, it was when he had started loving Sendoh, not for the dancing he did so effortlessly, so captivatingly, but for the free spirit and ease in which he carried himself, the sensual confidence he instilled by his own manner. That same night...he had given himself to the art he had chosen, and to the master who served to better him. And he had not regretted it. There had been no changes, no disturbance, which upset their cocoon of security and—dared he say it?—love.

Strong arms embraced him. He had turned away, had not seen Sendoh coming up to him. Now he relaxed, resting his head against the taller man's shoulder. "I'll pick you up after that," he said softly.

Yet suddenly, a flash of eyes the color of dark honey filled his vision, and for a moment, that was all he could see.

@@@

[A few hours later]

His parents were greeting the guests effusively, as he stood there and milled around with his colleagues, old classmates, and other guests. Haruko was at home, where her friends had planned a bridal shower. 

He smiled, just thinking about her. He had liked Haruko so long, that it had been nothing short of immeasurable joy when she had accepted his proposal. He had waited until he had a stable income to support a family before asking her, and it showed that his plans were well thought-out and gave concern to her well-being, so he remembered Mr. Akagi saying. 

_Three more days…_ he thought exultantly, raising his glass and toasting one of the well-wishers, bringing the cool champagne to his lips and sipping it. _And then I will be married to Haruko. _

A black car passed by outside, and he turned to see who might have come for the dinner, but the sedan didn't stop, moving past the main gates noiselessly and disappearing around the corner. But not before he caught a glimpse of the driver. There were two people in the car, both dark-haired, and in that instant, the profile he noticed seemed oddly familiar. His grip tightened around his glass.

@@@

As Sendoh opened the car door and slid out, Rukawa could only feel a sense of loss. It always took him this way. Sendoh had laughed when he had found the reason behind his lover's lukewarm attitude whenever he had a job.

*Flashback

"Kaede…don't be like this, will you?"

He had looked at the older man silently, and wished his heart was not as jealous, as possessive and as gone in love as it truly was.

"I wish you could stay here, by me, forever."

_You ask the hardest things, the impossible things._ Yet it could not be helped, for he understood, and as always, when he understood, he could not help but comply.

"Do you love me?"

The moment's pause was almost more than he could bear, until the other turned to face him, looking directly into his eyes. 

"I would love you if only for the sake of loving you."

*End of Flashback


	8. Wondering

Chapter Six

The house was abuzz with laughter and giggles. The girls were over at the Akagi residence for the bridal shower held in honor of the approaching wedding. Wrapped gifts were piled on the table and the sofa set, some even spilling onto the floor, and the balloons and streamers littered the furniture. The television was switched on and the radio located somewhere at the back of the house was blasting with music. 

Ayako glanced at her watch, frowning slightly. The performer she had hired wasn't here yet. She hoped it was truly as worth it as Yohei had told her. After all, it had been him who had given her the number and urged her to give it a try. She had booked the most expensive package, with a top dancer named Malcolm, who was supposed to be here at this very point in time, but interestingly enough, wasn't. Bright headlights outside the house caught her attention, and she turned and narrowed her eyes to see the passenger's side open and a tall figure cloaked in black step out. 

_Finally!_ she thought, jerking her head as casually as she could to Fuji, who grinned widely and pulled Haruko out of the living room towards the backyard where the television room was. Heaving a sigh of relief for the day's plans going smoothly, she hurried to the door and opened it just as a slim hand reached up to press the doorbell. 

"No!" she gasped, catching the hand and exhaling. "It's supposed to be a surprise for the bride." She released the hand and moved back to open the door. "You're Malcolm?"

Underneath the hood that shaded the pale face, she caught sight of a pair of delicate, glossed pink lips that turned up in a brilliant smile, making her blink and blush. "That's right."

Behind him, the black sedan pulled away into the darkness of the night.

@@@

As he drove away, his cheek still tingling from the goodbye kiss, his thoughts wandered to his schedule. It was always jam-packed, either with classes or with his work, and the week was no exception. 

_Tomorrow…I'll have that club opening to go to with Aki…and I have to finish that paper for sensei before Wednesday…and the new technique class…I must remember to sign my form before all the places are taken up… _ Musing, he finally stopped the car by the road. He had unconsciously driven to the nearby park. Reaching back to the backseat to grab the can of beer from the packet on the floor, he inclined the seat slightly and cracked open the drink.

_It's cold tonight._

Being alone always felt different. There were times when he wanted nothing more than to get away from the world, and there were other, happier times, when being alone felt lonely. Tonight, he was distracted, and he didn't know why. Lifting the can to his lips, he bent back his head and drank.

@@@

When the last guest had left, Hanamichi reached up and loosened his cravat. The dinner had been enjoyable, albeit too formal for his tastes, and he was tired out with his hosting. Breathing in deeply the cool air of the night, he stretched and shook his head to clear the kinks from sitting down too long. Making a spontaneous decision, he grabbed the keys on the shelf and strode down the driveway to the car. _I'll just go have a spin…relax for a bit…_

@@@

For some strange reason the past few days had been unusually taxing. He could not quite put his finger on it. Life had grown predictable, perhaps. His days were filled with the same torrid events that echoed back and forth in his mind every time he was alone. 

_Am I unhappy with the way life has turned out?_ he wondered to himself as he lifted himself off the hood of the car and walked to the back to retrieve another can of beer. _Would I have wanted it any different?_

After high school he had attended the arts program at the prestigious university, taking scholarships in music and dance as well as a more pragmatic degree of electronic engineering. Right after he graduated, he had looked around, and a schoolmate had introduced him to the company. That schoolmate had been Sendoh. _It was a wonder I had never noticed him before,_ the younger man thought wryly, leaning back onto the side of the car and popping the can open. 


	9. Bluntness

Chapter Seven

The park was dark, and all he could hear was the quiet chirping of crickets. Under the streetlight, he glanced at his watch. Twenty more minutes before he would go and pick Sendoh up.

The sudden flash of bright headlights made him wince, as another car drove past, the gravel crunching softly under the wheels as the driver reversed the car and parked it smoothly a lot away. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear his vision, when the sound of the car door opening behind him made him look over his shoulder.

_What…?_

@@@

Hanamichi pulled the keys out of the ignition and snapped them close into their leather casing. He opened the door, stepping out into the quiet night, glad for the solitude. The park was deserted this time of the night. There was only another lone car, one lot away, and a slim figure leaning by its side downing a can of drink. Rubbing his arms slightly to ease the chill, he suddenly wished he had brought a jacket. 

The sudden sound of an empty can clattering across the road made him pause his thoughts and look up. The figure had turned and was standing, leaning slightly against the car. He got the feeling that the stranger was looking at him. He squinted, not sure, when his eyes suddenly moved to the car.

_It's black…_

He took a hesitant step forward, his arms falling to his sides, the chill temporarily forgotten.

_It looks the same…_

His heart was thumping wildly now. For inexplicable reasons, he felt breathless, but he didn't feel scared. Under the scant light provided by the overhead lamp, he advanced slowly, not knowing why he was walking, not knowing why he had to see.

The figure stepped out into the illumination the streetlight offered, standing in a pool of shadows, and there, staring back at him, was another pale face he didn't recognize.

@@@

_It's him. Him._

They stood a few meters apart, looking at each other silently.

@@@

_He seems so familiar…where have I seen him before?_

Pale skin that stretched over slender limbs clothed in ordinary jeans and a shirt of black. Dark, ebony hair which swept past a defined face, especially framing the sensual mouth. The features were sculpted in an almost ethereal fashion, but it wasn't what arrested him about the stranger's appearance. 

_His eyes…_

Emotionless, cold, the most startling color of glimmering blue crystal. _I know those eyes…_

A small smile had begun to tug on the corners of the full lips, pink and slightly glossed in the wavering light. _I know that smile…_

Shock flooded him as he stepped back, stunned.

@@@

Rukawa cocked his head slightly and slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. What was supposed to happen now, he had no idea. It almost felt like a scene from a movie. 

The other man was just standing there, looking at him, amazement stamped so clearly on his features and posture that Rukawa was suddenly tempted to laugh. Finally making his decision, he stepped away from the car and walked forward, closer, closer, until he stood within a foot of the red-haired man. He held out his right hand.

"Hello."

@@@

"Hello."

He blinked, looking down at the proffered hand. It took a few moments for him to realize what it meant. 

"You're the dancer."

He blurted it out without even thinking, and then a second later cursed himself graphically. _Manners, Sakuragi Hanamichi, where are your manners?!_

The blue eyes narrowed.

"How astute."

_I must be in a nightmare. This can't be happening. I was just thinking about him…what is he doing here? What am –I– doing here?_

The moonlight seemed to freeze them into a tableau, before the slimmer of the two lowered his head and his shoulders begin to shake. It took a while to register that the stranger was chuckling.

"I was just thinking about you, you know."


	10. Denying

Chapter Eight

The words hung between them. _He's got to be kidding._ He began to tremble. 

A soft sigh, and he looked straight into the crystal clear eyes as the question resonated in his head.

"You look like you're afraid. Of me?" Faint surprise and amusement tinged the tone, and a slight flush blossomed on the redhead's skin.

"Who are you?" he demanded, the spell broken.

The man raised an eyebrow. "Unless I am mistaken, you –did– refer to me as 'the dancer'."

He gulped, his heart racing. _We're alone here. It's late. I shouldn't be here._ The thoughts raced around his mind, pounding slightly as he gritted his teeth.

"Yohei said your name was Lincoln."

The man laughed softly, and murmured something under his breath.

"What?" he was furious now, for an inexplicable reason. 

@@@

_'Lincoln'. That's who I am. Most of the time, anyway._

"What?" the redhead's voice was shaky, but held a undertone of impatience and disregard. 

"That's what they call me."

He took another step forward, suddenly noticing that in the pale moonlight that covered his vision with ethereal glows, the other man seemed taller, slimmer, his skin toned a darker, richer shade, his eyes glittering in the semi-dark, his clothes encompassing a frame that hinted of leanness and a definite musculature. 

_I really was thinking about him wasn't I? _

Images were beginning to flash in front of him. Dark brown skin. Alabaster skin. Lithe, slender. Expressive honey eyes. Knowing blue ones. A familiar glimmer. Hair the color of flames. Hair that fell in ebony waves. Softness, like silken waterfalls. _Sendoh. He makes me think of Sendoh. They're so different…_

Yet they're one and the same.

He looked away briefly, trying to control the direction his thoughts were fleeing in. 

@@@

The music was mesmerizing in its irregularity, the pulsing rhythms that pounded into the night and into the sky where they were sitting on cushions on the open-air yard. Fuji sat beside Matsui, and close to the latter the bride-to-be leaned on the fenced picket, entranced. Ayako was on Haruko's left side, and beside her were a few others from Haruko's office and her old friends from high school. Not that it mattered to any of them there. All eyes were focused, with good reason, onto the attraction that captivated them, in the middle of the circle.

He was tall, build straight from shoulder to hip and obviously toned muscled legs encased only by a shimmering pair of tight black pants, the shirt having long been discarded along with the coat and belt. He wore a jeweled mask, plumed with feathers that would have appeared tacky if not for the mysterious grace he carried it with. Lines of rich red brocade, dark velvet, electrifying blue strokes, bold across the front of the costume face-cover. Eyes the sensuous color of sun-washed skies, bedecked with the glimmering make-up that lined the almond-shaped twinkle. Pale skin that looked soft to the touch, and invitingly lean to those who watched, afraid to take their gaze away for want of what next surprise he had in store. The man moved with sinuous beauty, his dancing an expression of want, of need, of natural sensuality. 

The hot flush that stained Ayako's cheeks was only mirrored, if not deepened, on the bride-to-be's crimson skin. 

_I want him…_

@@@

"Are you all right?"

The hesitant voice broke through his self-induced state of unawareness. Unable to stop the automatic response, he snapped. "It's none of your concern."

Fire flashed in the redhead's glare. 

@@@

_He has to be one of the rudest people I've ever met…_

And yet the dance that night lingered in his memory, insistently refusing to budge, instead it loomed in front of him almost like it was replaying right there, right then. He clenched his fist and the treacherous thought slammed into him before he could think to block it out.

_I want to touch him._

Reflexively, he took a step back, a grimace coming onto his face as he looked away and shut his eyes tightly, willing the urges that were threatening to betray his fantasies of deep, dark down, the illogical longing that warned to burst and give way to action. "You're right. It's none of my concern."


	11. Would you see?

Chapter Nine

The red-haired woman stopped in the living room, clearing up the remnants of the party and smiling to herself. Straightening up, looking at the picture across the wall, maternal love filled her. Her baby had grown up. Her son was getting married. 

She shuffled across the floor and bent to shift the table back to its original position from where it had been jarred slightly. As she did so, a slip of white paper on the table caught her eye, alongside a short pencil. Curious, she picked it up and turned it over to look at the drawing on the other side.

It looked like a mask. Intricately drawn, with shading and a delicate mold. She admired her son's artistry for a moment longer, before putting it back down and weighting it to the table with the pencil. He really was a good architect.

@@@ 

Rukawa stared under heavily lidded eyes at the man who was slowly backing away from him. _What is –wrong– with him?_ Sighing quietly to himself, he stretched and leaned back against the car.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"For being rude earlier."

"Oh. It doesn't matter."

He sized up the other even as they spoke, exchanging words that had no real meaning or direction. 

"I'd best be going now," the other interrupted his chain of thought. He blinked and then acknowledged the words.

"That's true. Your wedding is in a few days, isn't it?" He wasn't about to admit that he had truly been eavesdropping while the one who had hired him and this one were talking, right before he had gone in. Then again, it was really quite obvious how he knew.

The redhead nodded slightly, bowing his head and then looking up and catching the shadow-darkened eyes of the other man. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

He left.

@@@

Rukawa watched as the car sped away, before uncoiling himself from the position he had adopted and walking around to the driver's side of the car, unlocking the door, pulling it open and sliding in easily. The glowing numbers on the digital clock read 11:00. It was time to pick Sendoh up. Inserting the key into the ignition, he turned it, and the engine rumbled to life.

@@@

As the music ended, the lithe body dropped to the ground in a calculated, dramatic final pose. A smattering of belated applause made a small smile touch the smoky eyes hidden behind the mask, which Haruko bit her lip to see. The group opposite her started giggling and, even in the semi-dark, she could see the blushes that stained every one of their faces.

_I probably look worse…_

She tried not to look, but her eyes stubbornly followed the sculpted torso as it rose and moved forward quietly to pick up the discarded clothes, before disappearing behind the open door. 

Her heart was pounding, and her head felt full, dizzy. The unadulterated lust that coursed in her blood made her suddenly ashamed, and she looked away from the door.

@@@

_Haruko._

Thoughts of his future wife made Hanamichi smile slightly and loosen his grip on the steering wheel that he had been clenching. 

_What I'm feeling now is just a phase. I –am– sure of this wedding. I am._

Making a quick decision, he turned left from the intersection. _I'll just go to her house, just to see her for a while._

@@@

Sendoh shrugged on the long coat and wrapped it about him, tightening the belt through the loops and deftly securing his clothes about him as he hurried through the house. Opening the front door, he slipped outside and found his sneakers. He stood up, removing his mask and placing it carefully in a large pocket. A car was already waiting at the curb shoulder on the opposite side, but it wasn't the familiar black sedan, but a sleek gray Porsche, the driver shadowed by the weak light of the street lamps. _Anyway…_ He shivered slightly in the cold.

He strode down the long driveway, and opened the small side-gate, letting himself out, just as the headlights of another car flashed in his face and he turned, wincing at the harsh light. It pulled up beside him, and the door swung open. He got in, to be greeted with a fierce kiss. 

_He really does hate it when we're apart… _The realization was nothing new, but he marveled at it again, as he always did when it came to him. His arms relaxed and encircled the weight of his lover, returning the kiss.

Suddenly the night wasn't so cold anymore.


	12. Images

Chapter Ten

When he had first seen the tall, dark-haired man come out from the Akagi residence, his first thought had been outrage and an unthinking sense of betrayal. But that was before he had caught sight of the group of girls who suddenly flooded the room, the bright light and streamers framing the large window that overlooked the lawn. They had hired a dancer. That was all. He turned his attention back to the man, and got a shock.

He had longish black hair that framed a fair, uncovered face. A face, stunning in its beauty, with features so delicate yet boyish. He was too far too see the color of the eyes that gazed at him for a moment, before turning away. The stranger moved with a predatory languidness in his stride, a confidence that dragged his eyes like a magnet. 

The resemblance was uncanny, but this one seemed more mature, more expressive in its nature, aggressive yet relaxed. _Lincoln. He and Lincoln…there's something so similar about them…_

A few moments later, he knew why.

The car that turned the corner was familiar, and as it drew closer the face he could see through the windshield was that of the dancer. Without realizing it, he drew in a sharp breath, and watched as the other man walked to the car. The driver bent over to unlock the door and open it, and the man got in. And then they started kissing. 

It seemed a long time before the passenger detached himself from the driver and leaned back in his seat, turning his head to say something to Lincoln.

His eyes followed the car as it drove off. And an unnamed emotion flashed through him, before it disappeared.

@@@

__

Why do I feel so unsure? Everything's been planned. I'll be married to Sakuragi-kun in two days. 

He's everything I could want in a man. He's smart, he's sensitive and he loves me and always tries to make things perfect for me. I've known him for so long. He's never let me down, and he makes me feel secure.

But it's not him this time. It's me. I'm not sure of this. And yet on the other hand all I want is for this confusion to go away and for us to be married. I know I'm nervous because the wedding's so close. That's all.

She stood and walked to the window, looking out at the green expanse of the lawn dotted with small flowers of white and yellow and pink and blue. 

@@@

_Damn._

Damn.

I'm going crazy.

This last thought failed to comfort him in any way.

_Why am I so undecided?_ He hated the emotions that toppled his line of thinking that went against his code of proper logic. 

_Why am I so scared?_

Was it the commitment? Where were all these second thoughts coming from?

Everything had been arranged, from the catering to the papers of the technicalities. It felt suffocating.

Unbidden, the image of not one, but two faces swam into his murky concentration. 

_And why, for the love of god, do I keep thinking about –them–?_

The realization caused him to stop pacing the length of his room. Glancing up, he caught sight of his reflection across the room in the large, full-length mirror that made up the opposite wall. He looked haggard, as though he hadn't slept well in days.

The vague memory of the night before still haunted him, and in his restless slumber the vision of slanted blue eyes had passed before him more than once, as well as an expanse of smooth, unmarked white skin, contrasted sharply with curtains of silken hair darker than the night itself. Then it had flashed to the mysterious other who he had seen coming out of the Akagi residence. The sheer magnetism and sensuous charisma he had exuded. Who was he? Lincoln's—and he flushed even thinking of it—lover, that much he was certain. 

He would have thought he would feel disgusted after watching the two dancers together, but if anything, a flaming passion had awoken in him instead.

Groaning, he clutched his head, slumping down on the edge of his bed. _I can't think anymore…_


	13. Mixed emotions

Chapter Eleven

"Tell me what's wrong."

The smooth hand caressed his chin and then lifted it so those clear blue eyes could look into clouded ones. 

"I know you too well for you to lie to me, Kaede."

@@@

His head was beginning to throb even as he glanced up at the face he loved so well. _Akira…_ Unconsciously, his hand reached up to thumb a pale cheek, and his lover's face softened at the touch.

"I know something's bothering you, Kaede. And…seeing you this way…it affects me too, you know."

He did know. He knew all too well. And he knew what he had to get off his chest. He just didn't know how to say it.

_It's not that I love you any less,_ he thought silently, looking away from the deep blue eyes that were looking intently at him, trying to read his emotions. _On the contrary, it might be because I love you more and more, want you more and more, need you more and more. And yet that other face keeps invading my mind, reminding me of you, even as you remind me of him…_

"I don't know myself, Akira."

And that was the start of the confession.

@@@

He sat alone on the bed, unmoving even after the door had closed and the sound of light footsteps had faded away, the warmth of the loose embrace still wrapping about him, the silence growing louder. The wind that slipped in through the slightly open windows brushed past him, lightly, before moving on swiftly. 

Bowing his head, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, refusing to let the tears come even as the breeze pulled back soft tendrils of hair from his hot cheeks. _Don't leave me…please…Akira…_

@@@

As the elevator doors slid open, the man within stepped out, walking away. The hem of the long coat brushed the floor as he turned and pushed open the door, letting himself out to the large garden.

Breathing in deeply the mixed scent of the blooming flowers, he moved further into the heart of the greenery and then sat down on the edge of the marble fountain, his hand dipping into the cool water as it sent ripples to the far end of the clear surface.

*Flashback

"I met someone else."

He felt his heart constrict at the words as he moved away, only to be grasped with a slim hand and pulled back onto the sheets, and held tightly.

"He makes me think of you."

The pain that he felt was almost eclipsed by the raw confusion in the voice that sought desperately to make his feelings understood. Almost, but not quite.

"I can't get him out of my mind."

He turned his head away, refusing to look at the other, while his arms tightened about the slimmer man. _I understand now, Kaede._

He would comfort the one he loved, even if it shattered him to do so.

"It's not that I love you any less. On the contrary, it might be because I love you more and more, want you more and more, need you more and more. And yet that other face keeps invading my mind, reminding me of you, even as you remind me of him." The words were choked, but not stopping.

He bowed his head. _Do you want him?_

When the hurt had subsided enough for him to think, the tremulous words had shaken him right back to where he had started. 

"Don't leave me, Akira."

__

I need to think…I'm sorry, Kaede…

He disengaged the other's hands carefully, rose, and left.

*End of Flashback

Now, alone, his thoughts were calmer and he was composed outwardly, if not mentally. 

__

What can I do now, Kaede? What do you want me to do?


	14. Forgiveness

Chapter Twelve

It was his wedding day. Rolling onto his side, he groggily focused on the alarm clock, the red digits reading an accusing 5:04 AM. The chapel wedding had been fixed with the pastor for eleven that morning, and he was supposed to be up and ready by eight.

_Figures…the one day I don't oversleep, I wake up too early…_

He pulled the black satin sheets aside and swung his legs over, setting his feet on the carpeted floor and propping himself up with his arms. Getting up, he stretched, walking to the window and parting the deep violet curtains. It was still dark outside, no noise, nothing. _Ah well…I'm already awake…_

Letting go, he turned and shuffled to the bathroom. Moments later, the sounds of the shower hit the cool tiles.

@@@

She had tossed and turned all night. Somehow, the impending feeling of insecurity hadn't left her, despite her reassurances to herself. Opening her eyes to the weak rays of moonlight that peeked through the cracks in the blinds, she lifted her arms above her head and stretched, slightly.

It was the morning of her wedding day. 

@@@

The door to the apartment opened slightly, then further, and the bare feet padded silently past the threshold and into the studio. Walking quietly, the figure moved to the middle of the room, where on the crumpled white sheets lay the sleeping form of another man, his body curled into a tight ball and his face turned slightly away from the window, the long lashes resting, damply, on white cheeks. Hands that had obviously been clenching the small cushions were relaxed now, gripping the pillows loosely. The pale skin glimmered with the traces of dried tears.

He had spent the night outside, alone, thinking. And through all the different feelings that ranged from love to self-pity, and rage to intense hurt, there had only been one conclusion. He stepped closer to the sleeping man on the bed, and then softly sat down on the corner, leaning forward to brush the matted black curls off the other's brow and pull the sheets tighter around the slim form. Moving closer, he bent down and gazed at the familiar face, his eyes softening. Bending down, he planted a chaste kiss on the pale forehead, and then pulled back to see light blue eyes flicker open and then slowly, disbelieving, focus on him.

"Akira?"

That one word, hearing him call his name in a voice that trembled and held the remnants of regret and fear, affirmed his own personal decision as he smiled down at the younger boy, tenderly, softly.

_Every way I look at it, there is no difference. _

"I'm so sorry," the hoarse apology was choked, and in it he could hear the faint hope that echoed in his heart and was brought forth, more alive in its response as he darted forward and kissed the other full on the lips, cutting off the words that were bound to be coming, the words that could explain nothing. At least, nothing of that which was surrounding them now, cloaking them in that point of existence. 

_I forgive you._

@@@

He walked out of the shower, randomly grabbing one of the pale towels that decked the bathroom rail and drying himself as he walked to the closet. Tossing the towel in the general direction of the laundry bin, he flicked on the light and walked into the separate room, pulling a pair of loose black pants off the rack and then pausing.

There, laid out of the low table, was his wedding tuxedo. He had bought one, not bothering to rent.

*Flashback

The manager of the store came over, a box in his hands. He lifted the cover to present the suit inside with a beaming flourish. "This is our latest, sir."

He looked closely at the fine stitches, the rich deep lavender silk, the mother-of-pearl buttons. 

"A one-of-a-kind suit for a memorable wedding, sir!" the manager lifted the double-breasted jacket out and straightened the starched lapels, holding it out. He reached forward and touched the cloth, marveling at its quality.

"I'll take this."

*End of Flashback


	15. Following your heart

Chapter Thirteen

He glanced at the wedding tuxedo, and his head began to throb.

__

What's wrong with me? I've been in this mood for days! Snap out of it, Sakuragi Hanamichi! 

Rubbing his temples wearily, he looked away and grabbed a loose blue shirt from the folded pile sitting neatly on the polished beige-colored row of shelves. Pulling it on, he did a quick turnabout and left the sudden claustrophobia of the walk-in closet. Moving swiftly to his large poster bed, he sat down on the side, before sprawling out and lying back on the sheets.

_Okay. Let's think about this. –All– of this. Calmly._

Just a few months ago, I was certain about my life. I have a great job, and that doesn't seem to be the issue here. I asked the love of my life to marry me, and she said yes. We're getting married today. So what's the problem?

He grabbed a pillow from the side and buried his face in it.

_Now let's take a look at what I should be feeling right now. I should be nervous, yes, and I should be indescribably happy. I should be excited, breathless with anticipation, and truly, truly happy deep in my heart._

He groaned aloud into the pillow.

_Why aren't I feeling like that?_

@@@

They lay together, exhausted from their earlier activity, the older of the two already peacefully asleep, wrapped tightly in the arms of the one who lay awake. Looking down at the beloved face, inhaling deeply the scent of his lover, the younger man closed his eyes and leaned forward, nuzzling softly into the other's warm neck.

_I can't believe he came back to me._

Tentatively running his fingers over the taller man's pale skin, reveling in the familiar touch, he sighed quietly and was content just for that.

_Akira…I love you so, so much. Sometimes I feel that my heart would burst just from your smile. It's amazing how my world revolves around you. Every new day I just find something different about you to love. _

He kissed the soft earlobe of the other man gently.

_I think about another man, yet I still feel the same way for you. I wonder how his lips will taste, yet my blood still hungers for the sweetness of your mouth. I want to touch him, to see how he feels, and yet my fingers still long for your skin._

Settling back into a comfortable position, he savored the moment, living and breathing each second. 

_Knowing me…even knowing I think of another…you still love me…Akira…_

I would die without you.

He exhaled deeply, and then slowly drifted off to a light sleep. Outside, the sun was just beginning to rise, casting gentle orange glows through the windows and onto the floor.

@@@

He stared up at the ceiling as the deep reddish rays of the rising sun intruded the sanctity of the dark bedroom. He stayed that way a moment longer, before rising in one fluid motion and getting to his feet.

Outside, the bustle was already beginning.

He glanced towards his closet again, and then made up his mind. Grabbing a denim jacket from the stand, he shoved his feet into the black and red running shoes he had just bought the other day. And without any further thought he opened the door and began to run.

@@@

Haruko rose and walked to the mirror, smiling tremulously at the reflection in the mirror. She was so excited already. _Today is the day…I get married to Sakuragi-kun…_

Unable to contain herself, laughter bubbled up from her throat. The sunlight seemed to throw any reserves she had had earlier away.

Picking up a comb from the pastel-toned dresser, she ran it through her long brown hair, smoothening out the tangles and humming to herself. She could hear her parents talking downstairs, and her brother's gruff voice. Just then, the doorbell rang. Dismissing it as nothing but the start of a hectic day, she skipped towards the bathroom when she heard her mother's astonished voice.

"Sakuragi?"

And from below, the familiar voice was clear and determined. 

"The wedding's off."


	16. No explanation

Chapter Fourteen

Staring at the flushed, determined face before him, Akagi felt something roar to life inside of his body. His parents were stunned, their skin drained white, and his mother looked as though she was going to faint.

"Excuse me?"

"I said the wedding's off." This time there was no mistaking it. There was no hesitation. The older man frowned.

"This is not a nice joke, Sakuragi—"

"It's not a joke."

@@@

"It's not a joke," he said seriously, and something in his expression must have conveyed that he was, in fact, not pulling anyone's leg and that he was, indeed, canceling his wedding on the day of its planned schedule. His heart wrenched when an image of Haruko flashed in his mind, her smiling face, to be replaced with that of a face marked with tears. It took him a while more before he realized that the familiar curve of cheek was not an illusion, and that the woman in front of him, standing at the foot of the stairwell, her eyes widened in shock, was in fact the one he had been supposed to marry that day. Hurt flared in his gaze as she clung to the railing for support, staring at him.

_God, I'm so sorry for all of this._

"What's going on, Sakuragi?" The elder Akagi's voice was low.

He shook his head to clear the flood of doubts that would help nothing now. He pushed away the indecision and inhaled deeply, trying not to think of the pain in her eyes, the betrayal she must view him with, looking past the weary face to the white one beyond.

"I need to speak to Haruko-chan. Please."

@@@ 

She watched, her knuckles turning whiter in their death grip. _Please don't let this be true. Please don't let this be true._

Silently, her family parted to give way to the figure standing illuminated by the gentle sunlight. Somehow, the contrast was cruel, that in softness there was harshness present, and she knew that everything she had heard was truly happening, and not a figment of her imagination.

_Why?!_ Her mind was wailing in anguish at her but outwardly she stayed calm except for a trembling of her lip. And she stood there, watching, watching as he stepped closer, his expression a mask she did not recognize.

He stopped an arm's length away from her and bowed sharply, and when he raised his head she could have sworn she saw the glimmer of tears at the corner of those eyes. She couldn't speak, didn't trust herself to speak, and yet suddenly she heard her voice, remarkably controlled as it left her throat.

"Why?"

@@@

He could only stare on miserably at her. Her composure was threatening to crack.

_I need this, Haruko-chan...damnit, it's got nothing to do with you._ He could tell how much she was hurting, and it ripped him apart inside. _It's me…I can't go through with this…not just yet…the confusion is too much…I don't want to marry you with regret, Haruko-chan._

As he spoke those words aloud, he kept his gaze on her, his brain screaming at the grief he was inflicting. But it didn't matter so much, somehow. It was the right thing to do. "There's no other way," he whispered softly, before bowing his head. _Please forgive me…I need time, Haruko-chan. I need to sort my life out before I do anything._

"I understand."

@@@

Long after he had left, long after her eyes had followed his body to the door and witnessed its leaving, the memory of his voice, of his words, still echoed mercilessly in her head. 

_I don't want you to marry me with regret either, Sakuragi-kun._

She could hear voices, concerned voices, above her head somewhere. What were they saying? 

_But…how could you do this to me?_

She was being lifted, carried up, with the voices still buzzing above her head. She didn't take notice of them.

_Why did you change your mind?_


	17. Answers in illogicality

Chapter Fifteen

"You did WHAT?" the voice on the other end of the phone screeched so loudly that the redhead jumped away from the payphone, wincing, before noticing the glares the queue of people was giving him and jumping hurriedly back into the phone booth.

"I cancelled the wedding," he hissed, jiggling his foot irritably against the transparent pane where an old, white-haired man dressed in a weathered blue jacket looked impassively at him.

"Please don't play these tricks, Hanamichi. It's two hours till you have to be at the church—"

He closed his eyes and counted to ten, slowly, letting his best friend ramble on for a moment, before he straightened sharply.

"This. Is. Not. A. Joke!" He shouted forcefully, punctuating each word with a pause.

@@@

Yohei stared incredulously at the phone in his hand before having mind enough to place it back to his ear.

"You have some explaining to do, buddy."

"Yes," the voice was desperate. Yohei could hear it in the nuances of the voice, the strained syllables. "I need your help."

He blinked. What did he have to do with any of this?

"I need the number of someone you called a few days ago."

@@@

[A few hours later]

He walked back along the sandy ground to his car, kicking pebbles aimlessly. The sun was setting, and here at the beach, the sky was colored a brilliant shade of rose and deep orange. There were only a few people sitting on the ledge a way away from the tide, and one or two were already getting up to leave. The sea breeze blew salty memories into his eyes.

It had been here that he had proposed to Haruko. 

Since morning he had switched his cell phone off, but not before calling his company to request a week's leave due to personal problems. A short explanation, and it was settled. He –was– one of the company's more talented and hardworking staff, so the request of a leave of absence had been met with sympathy and a green light. He knew they would all be calling him. He didn't want to think about his parents, the guests at the church, the looks on everybody's faces when he never showed up.

Yohei had given him the number. He wondered why he dared not call. The knot in his heart had begun to twist. Acting the way he did, canceling the wedding…it had all been done in the momentum of spontaneity, the phase of single-minded determination that had come straight from his heart. Sighing, he stopped walking and leaned against the railing. It was bad, but he was glad he had done it. And yet at the same time he was feeling more and more confused, and depressed.

_What do I want?_

It was a question he seemed to have trouble answering himself as the full implications of what he had set in motion that morning hit him. Stifling his frustration, he sat down abruptly on the ground as the palm leaves, dark green in the shadowy light, whispered and swished behind him.

__

Why did I call off the wedding? I can't figure it out. My life was planned, perfect. I had everything about to happen and just before it did I walked out on it all? I'm confused now, yes, afraid of commitment, maybe, but how could I have taken such a drastic step? 

All right. He was obviously having no luck with logical thinking. _Let's think off the record, then._

What do I want?

And then his thoughts took a revealing if traitorous turn, and he leaned back and sighed heavily at the realization, and the acceptance of what he had never bothered to look full in the face.

_I can't stop thinking of him. And him. _

He looked down, where on his palm, a local phone number had been scribbled hastily. _And I knew. I only pretended I didn't. All I don't know is why. And all I don't know is if it's right to be thinking like that._

He closed his eyes as his hand reached down to his pocket to retrieve the cell phone.


	18. Crash

Chapter Sixteen

Sendoh watched as the slim figure disappeared into the lift of the luxurious looking beachfront condominium, his hands light on the steering wheel. He stayed a few more moments before gunning the engine and driving off. He would pick Rukawa up in an hour or so, because the requested show was a long one.

Everything had changed, and yet life still remained the same. 

Turning onto the highway that ran parallel to the white sands of the beach, he drove rather distractedly, and his thoughts focused inward, the corners of his mind absentmindedly noting the brilliant sunset and subconsciously slowing to take in its beauty. 

Suddenly a loud jarring noise burst the calm façade of the evening. Startled, he jammed on the brakes right in the middle of the isolated intersection, and then reached over where the ringing noise was coming from. Fishing on the floor of the passenger's side, he finally groped and found a slim object. Pulling it out, he made a face as it vibrated in his hand, the tinkling song still pouring from it and listing an unknown number. Rukawa must have dropped it earlier when he alighted. He contemplated turning around to give it to his lover, but decided against it. After all, he would be performing now and there was certainly no point for him to have a phone when he was going to be wearing close to nothing. Shrugging, he flipped opened the cover, slipped the phone into the crook between his shoulder and neck, and floored the accelerator.

"Hello?"

And then there was a loud screeching noise. He turned his head just enough to catch sight of the large metallic surface, glinting red in the sunset, before it smashed into the car. The phone was sent flying through the windows, where it landed on the ground with a scratching thud. 

@@@

"Hello?"

Hanamichi whipped around at the sound of the screeching brakes less than a hundred yards behind him, and his limbs froze. A large tanker, one of the many that carried petroleum to all the stations alongside the highway, had turned out from the intersection, and right in front of it was a car. A black car. A sedan.

His hand dropped the phone. And, his blood pounding furiously in his ears, he began to run.

@@@

The tanker tried to stop, but it was a huge vehicle, and it continued pushing the battered car closer and closer to the steep end of the rail that would give way to a tide of treacherous rocks. The sound was deafening, and his vision was black, and dark red, and black. He felt pain, stinging his senses, as he cried out. The rail bent, and began to twist under the weight of the tanker. He could hear the sounds of the waves, lapping lightly on the sand and uneven ridges. 

_I don't want to die._

And then, miraculously, the dragging stopped.

@@@

The driver of the tanker jumped down, horrified. The highway was deserted at this time; there would hardly be anyone coming along to give assistance. Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out a quarter and ran to the nearest public phone, a tiny speck in the distance. Even as he raced off, another, taller man, reached the scene, panting heavily, his eyes scanning the wreckage with something akin to denial in them.

_Please don't let it be Lincoln. Don't let it be Lincoln._

It was virtually impossible to reach the trapped driver just out of the passerby's reach. And then with horror, he heard the cracking, ominous and squeaking, as the rail bent further. 

_It's going to be too late._

Desperation seized him as he leapt between the narrow gap of the halted tanker and the slowly falling sedan. Twisting impossibly around, he saw the full extent of the wreckage. The back door on the passenger's side had been pounded in so completely it was hanging off by one hinge. The glass in the windows had completely shattered. From here, he could see the driver, a mass of dark hair that glinted dully in the fading light.


	19. Finding out

Chapter Seventeen

Bracing himself, he cautiously leant forward, feeling the shards of glass press against his knees through the thick jeans he wore. The driver had not been strapped in, which proved helpful to him now as his rescuer tried dimly to stretch across the length of the backseat. The passenger's seat had been crushed nearly full to the floor, and that made it far easier for Hanamichi to see the pale skin, the unmoving body.

Perspiration dripping painfully into his eyes, he exhaled and then, slowly, put one arm around the broad chest of the driver and, with a silent prayer, pulled.

The body fell slack into his arms like a sack of meal. Torn between relief and dread, he pulled, harder now, and heard the snap of the rail with sickening terror. Crawling backwards, breathing harder with the new weight in his arms, he backed out so quickly that he didn't even notice the trails of blood as they wound round his arms, the cutting pain in his hands as the glass sliced into his flesh. And as he tumbled to the ground, his arms cradling the one he had saved, he looked away, cringing as the car slid further over the edge.

His arms were screaming with the strain now. He pulled the man further away, into the shadow provided by the tanker, and then he remembered, and his heart dropped.

_Please, don't let it be him._

And with that silent begging in his mind, he turned the man over. And gasped.

It was him. It was the other man.

His hair was matted with fresh blood that seemed to spill from his temple, and he was unconscious. _His face…_ In a trance provided only for that one moment, Hanamichi reached out and traced a path down the lines of the smooth jaw, the pale cheeks, the closed eyelids, the nose. 

_He's beautiful. Just like Lincoln._

The wail of a siren cut through his thoughts and he looked up to the flashing blue and red lights of the police car, the whine of the ambulance in the distance the last thing he remembered before he gulped and passed out.

@@@

He stood on the sidewalk, shivering slightly in the cold sea breeze and pulling his coat tighter about his body. It was twenty minutes since their prearranged meeting time. Where was Sendoh? 

To make matters worse, there seemed to be some sort of commotion on the far end of the neighborhood. He had seen police cars turn in, other plainer cars, and then a huge, scraped tanker.

_What is going on here?_

It was only when the tow-truck passed by that his heart stopped for a beat. And then cold panic, raw fear, coursed through his body. He stared at the mangled remains of the black car as it passed, his eyes almost afraid to look as it was towed, beside him, then past him. And as his eyes dropped to the number plate, hanging off by a nail, he staggered back, the chill sweeping through his body, into his mind, freezing him, forcing him to look after the car even as it moved away, a tangled, mangled mess of metal and..._and blood._

_Akira._

Dimly, he was aware that he was in shock, as a broken wail grew louder, and then he realized that he was the one screaming.

@@@

The police car found the slumped man, looking heartbreakingly childish, seated on the pavement, his eyes unfocused. The policewoman stepped out, then approached the man, squatting down and looking him over.

"Are you all right?" she asked gently.

_Akira. Akira._ He didn't want to know, didn't want to see, didn't want to hear. Yet, he needed to know.

"What?" she couldn't hear him.

_Take me to him, please…_ A hand shot out and grabbed her arm, almost in vice-like. Astonished, her immediate reaction was to pull away, but the voice stopped her. Filled with anguish and helplessness, he couldn't look her in the eyes, but the desperation she could hear in that hoarse whisper was enough.

"Was he your friend?"

He nodded numbly as she knelt again, put her arms around him, and helped him slowly to the car.


	20. In between

Chapter Eighteen

It was morning. The nurse walking past, her low heels clicking softly on the polished floor, took a glance at the sleeping figure huddled on two adjoining, plastic orange chairs. Her eyes softened as she made a small detour and went to his side.

"Been there since last night," the tired, older woman who was just off the early morning shift commented as she walked out of the staff's room. "Might be his brother in there. Car accident."

"Oh," she nodded understandingly and smiled in thanks at the matronly woman before kneeling down and reaching out to gently shake the man awake. "Sir?"

He awoke, groggily, his eyelids opening to reveal two of the darkest blue eyes she had ever seen, ringed with fatigue and the salt of tears. He made a move to uncoil, but cringed almost immediately, his body nearly sent into a spasm.

She got up hurriedly to help him. He was stiff from the night crammed into the hard chairs, and cramping terribly. "Sir? We have a spare room for the family members of our patients if you like. It's just down the hall—"

She trailed off when he finally set his feet on the ground, pulled back his bangs with the large hands that looked deathly pale in the white lights, and stood up shakily. "It's all right."

She bowed and left.

*Flashback

"He's lost a lot of blood, and he has a severe concussion."

Upon seeing the look on the other man's face, the doctor hastened to add to his statement, "But he will be fine."

There was so much in that torn gaze, ripped between dying to believe, and afraid to accept. Sighing softly to himself, he tapped the other man on the shoulder with compassion. "It is truly nothing fatal. He should be up within the next few days or so," he said gently.

He followed the man's gaze to the ward where the victim had just been sent. It was cool in the corridor, and the lights in the ward were dimmed. Moonlight streamed down through the windows, pooling on the cold linoleum floor.

*End of Flashback

Now, standing in the doorway of the ward, he took a deep breath, before walking forward, past the first, covered bed to the second, where the curtains were pulled back and where the pale sunlight bathed a fair face in almost ethereal glows. A white bandage, heavily wound around the forehead, framed the slightly scratched cheeks. He seemed whiter than ever. But…

_You're alive._

That was all he needed. He gulped and reaching back blindly, pulled the chair closer to the bed and nearly fell into it as thankfulness and joy washed over him in breaking waves. Unable to tear his gaze away from the quiet rise and fall of the covered chest, tears pricked the back of his eyelids and he groped for one warm hand, catching it swiftly and planting a soft kiss onto the palm.

_Akira. Thank god._

@@@

He awoke to the sounds of a light breathing, and a heavier one, in the cot next to his. Shifting to brush back the hair that fell into his eyes, he winced at the burning pain and the swaths his hands were covered in itched and seared. For a moment he forgot how he had ended up here.

Sitting up in bed, he noted that other than his hands, his legs were also in bad shape, but thankfully felt like they would be none the worse for the wear. _I'm not going to be designing anything for awhile that's for sure…_

The beige curtains were pulled around his bed, but he could tell it was day. Swallowing and finding his throat dry, he slowly swung his legs over the side, biting back a squeak as his feet came into contact with the cold floor. Reaching for one of the glasses set on the pale yellow tray on the side table, he looked at it thoughtfully, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand. _Better wash the glass._

Shuffling forward, he lifted a hand and awkwardly pulled the curtain aside with his arm, blinking as the sunlight flashed into his eyes, rendering him momentarily blind. Dimly, he could see someone, seated on a low-backed chair a few feet away, spin around. When his vision cleared, he found himself staring straight into a pair of shocked blue eyes.


	21. Choices and responsibilities

Chapter Nineteen

He heard a rustling sound behind him, and twisted around to look as the patient from the other bed emerged, tousled hair the color of fiery coals shining with darker highlights in the yellow rays of sunlight. The stunned gaze that was holding his own could not have further mirrored the flare of astonishment in his own eyes. 

Silence stretched between them. 

@@@

Even as he took in the sight of the pale fingers twined around the motionless hand of the other, he could sense the dark blue gaze leaving his face and coming to rest on his bandaged hands.

@@@

"You saved him." It was not a question, neither was it a statement. He rose to his feet, putting his lover's hand gently down back on the cotton sheets and then turning back to face the redhead. Moving forward quietly, he approached the redhead, gazing wordlessly into the eyes that met his directly, frankly. And without warning, he reached forward and caught the bandaged hands, tenderly, softly.

_He is everything to me. And you…you were there when I wasn't._

"Thank you."

He looked so heartbreakingly beautiful, standing there, looking back at him. Rukawa trailed the contours of the face, down to the softly curving leanness of body before him. If anything, the first night he had looked at this man, everything he had been aware of was only heightened, emphasized, elaborated on in the light of day. The fluid movements, the easy-going, confident grace that he was faced with now, coupled with the intensity of the emotions he had been tortured with these hours and past, made him remember the words of barely forty-eight hours ago, the words he had mused to himself, the memory of it etched in his mind.

__

I think about another man, yet I still feel the same way for you. I wonder how his lips will taste, yet my blood still hungers for the sweetness of your mouth. I want to touch him, to see how he feels, and yet my fingers still long for your skin.

And it was true. He wanted. And he wanted with a passion. But he couldn't. Not now, when Sendoh needed him.

@@@

The whisper was soft, but he caught it as though it had been said clearly aloud. There was a lump in his throat as the man whom he knew only as Lincoln brought both his wounded hands up and looked at them intently, before his gaze flickered up to center on his face. In that gaze, indecision warred with want, and he flinched. Unbidden, an image of Haruko came to him, her smiling face, only to be replaced by that of the breathing, living man in front of him, and he pulled away, trembling slightly.

_It's true, isn't it? I put so many other faces in front of the one I want._

His gaze slid past Lincoln to focus on the sleeping figure on the bed. _I don't know him. But I know that I want him. There's something about them both. And it's pulling me apart, shred by shred._

The phone began to ring on his side, jolting the dreamlike world he had been in. Remembering that someone else was asleep, he turned quickly, hobbling back to the bed, trying to forget of Lincoln's presence, and succeeding completely when he heard the voice on the other line.

"Hanamichi, you made the front page!"

Blinking, he shook his head, then remembered that the other could not see him. "Yohei?" he whispered. And then the humor went out of his friend's voice.

"Are you all right?"

He gulped and looked at his hands, fighting the sudden urge to give in to despair, and forcing cheer into his voice. "I'm fine," he answered quietly.

Yohei was silent for a moment. "I'm just going to pick your parents up, and then we'll be right there to see you, okay?"

Hanamichi closed his eyes and exhaled. "I can't—I can't—" _I can't deal with twenty questions right now…_

"Don't worry," his best friend cut in soothingly. He could almost see the lopsided smile that he suddenly heard in the tone, beside the concern and reassurance. "I've told them not to ask." Another pause. "Don't shut us out, Hanamichi…it's not polite."

And, hearing that mock berating, for the first time since he had put on his shoes that fateful morning and run to the truth of his heart, he laughed.


	22. Glances

Chapter Twenty

Somehow, he realized it was the first time he had ever heard the redhead's laughter. All the past times they had met, it had been tense, serious, an unwillingness on either side to open up. But somehow, here, in the hospital ward now, the sound of that laughter made Rukawa suddenly aware that the redhead was in effect a living, breathing human being, with moods and feelings. It had been a long time since he had noticed that of anyone. In fact, the last he could remember had been—he looked down at the bed and sat down again, reaching out to clasp the pale hand and thank god all over again that his lover had survived—Sendoh.

He heard the other man talking slowly, laughing a bit more, before the phone was set down in its cradle with a short click. The mood in the air reverted back to quiet hesitancy, but it had already been far lightened, at least to the blue-eyed man who got up and planted a quick kiss on the cool forehead of the unconscious patient. And then he felt the flutter of eyelids against his skin, and withdrew swiftly, when a hand reached out and touched his face, weakly, tentatively.

"Kaede?"

His heart nearly burst at the murmur, and he was astounded at the sudden whirl of emotions that caught him up and swept him away at that touch. In that one moment, tears threatened to overcome him as he looked down, his hand tightening around the other's.

"Are you all right?" his lover asked quietly, taking in his rumpled appearance with all the slightly unfocused intensity of his sky blue eyes. Rukawa nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

@@@

Sendoh was surprised, and touched, when the younger man suddenly reached down to envelop him in a bear hug, and was more than slightly alarmed when he felt the wet trickle of tears press against his cheeks.

_Kaede…_

"Don't ever do that again," the fierce whisper beside his ear alerted him to the fact that he was, in fact, having a throbbing headache. Pushing it away, he slowly encircled Rukawa in his arms.

"I'll try not to."

Slowly, the silent sobs receded, and they lay there, both comforted by the other, bathed in the warmth of the sunlight that spilled through the window.

@@@

Hanamichi watched the two men embrace, and felt his throat burn slightly. It was an unabashed display of raw emotion. The tableau they made spoke of whispered promises, of cherishing, of a love so deep he could almost see it, a palpable blanket of hope about them. With a small smile on his face, he turned and closed the curtains softly, before sliding between the sheets, wincing at the pressure on his hands, when the door to the ward burst open.

"Sakuragi Hanamichi!"

Before he had even time to grasp the concept that life did go on after broken dreams, he was being attacked fiercely from the side, as his mother grabbed him in a bone-breaking clasp. Gasping for air, he glimpsed Yohei's smiling face just outside the curtains, when it parted and his father walked in, his expression almost undetectable but for the worry in his eyes. Hanamichi felt profoundly guilty.

"Before you ask," he blurted, untangling himself from his mother and looking at his parents both, "I'll just say…I needed to do what I did."

They exchanged looks with raised eyebrows, before his mother turned back to him. "Hanamichi," she said finally, the warmth and concern in her voice something he had most definitely not expected, "It's –your– wedding. It's –your– life. All we can do is to be here for you. I just wish you had told us you were having second thoughts."

He bowed his head. "I know. I'm sorry."

A gruff voice cut through his swimming thoughts. "Are you all right?"

He looked wonderingly at his father. "Otousan…you're not angry?"

A large hand rough with years suddenly reached out and touched his head, ruffling his hair. "Why should I be angry?"

And over his father's shoulder, Yohei gave him a cheeky grin and a thumbs-up, when he happened to glance over to the other bed, where a flash of dark hair made his eyes widen. _Isn't that…?_


	23. Impressions

Chapter Twenty One

[Three days later]

He selected a dark blue tie that matched his navy shirt and slipped it over his head, walking over to the mirror as he knotted it slowly. His hands were now encased in slimmer, thinner wraps, but they still hurt. 

*Flashback

Lincoln—or Kaede as he had heard the other man call him—had left for the night, and Hanamichi was trying to flip the control closer to him as best as he could with his bandaged fingers when a slim hand picked it up and brought it over. He looked up, and there stood the other man.

In the cool fluorescence of the lights from outside, for the ward was dark by now, he marveled at how much the two men resembled each other. But even in similarity, there was difference. Up close to him now, able to see him clearly, this one looked older, and not in a bad sense. There was a collected confidence about him that Lincoln did not have, a comfortable blending into his surroundings. And he was handsome. Exceptionally so, with his black hair tousled slightly by the bandages and framing his fair face, and wide-set eyes the color of sunny, cloudless skies and lips that looked soft and strangely inviting. Hanamichi kicked himself inwardly. What was he thinking?

"Need help?" he could hear the hint of a smile in the barest nuances, but he nodded in gratitude as the channel was changed. "This one's okay."

There was a soft rustle, and then the man padded forward, closer, and sat down in the chair beside his bed. They were silent for a moment, before the other man spoke.

"I've yet to thank you for pulling me out. You saved my life."

His voice was warm and husky. Hanamichi bit his lip as a flush worked its way over his cheekbones, and blessed the half-dark as he tried to think of a reply.

"It was something anyone would have done," he replied finally. "But I'm glad you're okay."

A low chuckle answered him, as the man rose. "Well then, I won't disturb your rest any longer. Good night." And he turned to go.

"Hey."

He turned, illuminated by a soft glow. "Yes?"

"What's your name?"

A ghost of a smile tugged at the cherry lips. "They call me Malcolm. But my name is Sendoh. Sendoh Akira."

"Sakuragi Hanamichi."

*End of Flashback

He briefly wondered about the amount of work that he would have to catch up with when he finally got back to the office. He missed his job, for it was his passion as well. Walking away from the mirror, he bent down and, from the bottom shelf, retrieved a belt, looping it about his waist awkwardly and then buckling it.

*Flashback

Hanamichi packed his things as quickly as he could manage, and then checked to make sure he had left nothing behind. His parents were waiting outside in the hall. Opposite him, Sendoh was packing too. The bandages had been removed and was be replaced by a large swab of white cotton that covered the healing wound on his left temple.

"How are you getting back, Sakuragi?"

He looked up and smiled. "My parents are going to fetch me. I'm going to be thinking twice before I get into any car now, though."

Sendoh laughed. "Well, the one I wrecked up has already been replaced by my company. And I'm not the one doing the driving this time, so I can hope that I will at least be able to return to my apartment in one piece."

He stamped the flicker of interest out sternly, and chuckled with Sendoh. "Is Lincoln going to come pick you up?"

The other man shrugged. "Yes. I'll be meeting him at the entrance. And hey—"

Hanamichi turned. "Hmm?"

"Dinner on me. Tomorrow night. To thank you." 

"That's not really necessary, Sendoh—"

"Please. I insist."

*End of Flashback

He took a last look at himself, before he walked past the closet and to the hallway where his shoes were already laid out.


	24. Perhaps

Chapter Twenty Two

Rukawa reclined on the bed, watching Sendoh intently as the older man bustled about the kitchen whistling softly. It had been a day since his lover had been discharged from the hospital, and he was unhappy with the fact that Sendoh was not resting, but was instead in the kitchen, making dinner. Unknown to many, the renowned dancer did have a creditable history in cooking, and a rich one at that. In fact, the aroma wafting from the various pots and pans on the stove was almost as tempting as the sight of the cook. Almost.

He got up from his seat and walked towards the other man, slipping noiselessly in between the intersecting corridors and into the kitchen, before moving forward and giving Sendoh a peck on the cheek.

"Why do you want to do this?"

The small smile never left the glossed lips, even as he turned and set the pot down carefully on the table and looking sideways at the stony expression. Sendoh laughed. "It's just a dinner, Kaede. He did save my life, you know."

"I know." It wasn't something he would be forgetting in a hurry. "But I still don't see why you have to—"

He was silenced with a light kiss, an intimacy that tasted of cinnamon and gingerbread, and the spicy, fruity scent of the other's cologne. "Do you think I'm blind, Kaede?" he whispered.

Relaxed just moments before, Rukawa stiffened and inched back, even as Sendoh snaked _an arm about his waist and pulled him closer in an embrace. "What—"_

Do you think I never saw how you two would look at each other across the room? Do you think I don't know that this was the one you spoke to me about just such a short time ago? Did you think I would sit back, and do nothing?

He looked deeply into almost identical blue eyes, and his gaze softened. _I want you to be happy…Kaede…_

This last he said aloud, and Rukawa's eyes widened slightly, before they flared with anger and narrowed. 

@@@

Sendoh pulled away and returned his attention to the sauces and dishes that were cooking with such tangible taste. But he didn't go very far, before an arm wrapped itself roughly against his waist and he was crushed against a wall, the plastic pepper bottle dropping noiselessly from his hand and knocking with a soft 'thud' onto the parquet floor even as blazing blue eyes pierced him motionless.

"What are you thinking?"

The demand, flashed in the low voice he had become accustomed to through the time they had been together, was inescapable. 

"Answer me."

He swallowed and tried to look away, but a surprisingly gentle wrist held his chin in place. "Don't do this to me, Akira. Please don't do this to me."

_What…?_

The younger man leaned close, so that his breath was warm on the base of the other's neck and his body fitted smoothly to his lover's. "Don't presume to know what I'm thinking all the time, will you?"

"You want him."

This last he finally managed, even as the hurt pinned him down more effectively than Rukawa's strong arms, but he struggled to continue. "If he makes you happy, Kaede, then all I can do is—"

"-You- make me happy."

"He might make you happier if you gave yourself a chance to—"

Before he could make a vain attempt to argue, a pale hand muffled him, and a deep, searching gaze arrested him, making the words die from his lips before they were spoken. 

@@@

__

Saying "I love you" is not the words I want to hear from you

It's not that I want you not to say but if you only knew

How easy it would be to show me how you feel

More than words is all you have to do to make it real

Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me

Because I'd already know…

"Do you love me?" he whispered tentatively, removing his hand slowly, quietly, waiting for a response. 

@@@

Sendoh looked at the face before him, memorizing the beloved features, reveling in the nuances of the voice that had captured him from the beginning, as memories of the past flashed before his mind. How they had met. Everything they had done together. Why they had stayed together. 

"Do you love me?"

In that single question he could hear doubt, insecurity, hope and fear. And regret and apology filled him immediately, if only for the fact that he knew that it was what he was doing, pushing the other away, that was making Rukawa question his feelings so. It was no use hiding, no use running, then.


	25. The start of a beginning

Chapter Twenty Three

He could see the regret in Sendoh's eyes the moment he asked, and the apology. His arms tightened about his precious burden. _I need you, Akira…more than anything else, I need you…loving another hasn't changed that fact…_

And perhaps it was because they had been together so long, or simply that Sendoh knew him so well, that the other could read his thoughts, read his mind like an open book. A chaste kiss, gradually growing deeper, when finally all traces of resistance had been burned to ashes, fed his soul like fiery warmth, and his answer was there, in every point of contact between their skin. 

@@@

As he climbed the low steps to the elevator, Hanamichi barely took in the luxurious surroundings, although he did note with detached profession the richly furnished architecture of the building he was in. Outside, past the glass panels where two security guards were sitting quietly, he could see the pool, large and sparkling blue in the underwater lights that illuminated the water, surrounded by lush greenery and a brilliant spectrum of colors and flowers.

The floor was polished so well that as he looked at his feet, waiting for the lift to arrive, he could see his reflection, and the expression on his face even as he smiled crookedly at the inverted Hanamichi. The slim doors slid open with a soft bell, and he looked up, distractedly, even as he realized there was someone in the elevator.

"Well are you coming in, or not?" the bellboy asked impatiently. He started, and then murmured his apologies as he stepped in quickly. "The penthouse please."

Without even batting an eyelid the boy, who looked to be no younger than fifteen, pressed the corresponding button and then sat back on his low stool. The ride up took less than a minute, but it seemed forever until the doors parted noiselessly and the bellboy cocked his head and pointed at the single door that almost directly in front of them. It was a simple, white door, with a small brass doorknob, and a few potted plants were lined along the beige walls. As he stepped out, and felt rather than heard the lift doors close behind him, he stepped forward almost hesitantly.

Within the walls, he could hear soft music playing, soft, classical ballads he recognized. From what he could gather the apartment was dark, and he was about to cover the remaining distance and ring the doorbell when he heard the lock twist. The door swung open to reveal a smiling face.

"Good evening!"

Sendoh's posture was relaxed, as his frame filled the doorway. The bandages on his forehead looked decidedly rumpled, but the man himself did not seem to bear any other physical marks of the accident he had been in. Dressed in faded, stone-washed jeans and a casual, checkered button-down shirt, he grinned easily and stepped aside, reaching out an arm to pull his visitor in. "Welcome," he laughed.

The apartment looked almost out of a Hollywood movie to Hanamichi, with its clean cut lines and few, ornate furniture artistically put this way and that. There was a large panel of glass opposite where they stood instead of a wall, and the pale moonlight was filtered in through the blue-green tints. Soft, warm lights at the perimeter of the apartment gave the studio a cozy feel. Delicious aromas wafted towards him from the general direction ahead.

Smiling at his host, he waited for Sendoh as the latter closed the door behind him, and then followed him as he led the way into the main hall.

@@@

_He's a good-looking man. I can see why Kaede likes him._

"Dinner will be served shortly, Sakuragi," he turned slightly to address the redhead who was following a little way behind. "Hungry?"

A low chuckle was his answer. 

_Scratch good-looking. He's beautiful. _

As they rounded the corner, he noted that the tune floating softly from the in-built speakers was one of Rukawa's favorite songs.


	26. Wine

Chapter Twenty Four

__

Saying "I love you" is not the words I want to hear from you

It's not that I want you not to say but if you only knew

How easy it would be to show me how you feel

More than words is all you have to do to make it real

Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me

Because I'd already know…

He remembered that song rather vividly, for no apparent reason but for the fact that it was Rukawa who had sang it to him, the first night they had been together, singing softly so that he fell asleep with the words haunting him. That was a long time ago. Smiling to himself, he stopped the nostalgic thoughts, just as another dark figure emerged from the kitchen armed with cooking gloves and balancing three dishes of food almost too easily. Looking at him, Sendoh remembered.

@@@

They sat around the table, the older host leaning back slightly in his chair and mulling over something while the younger stared at something over his shoulder. Hanamichi himself studied the both of them under his lashes, and hoped they wouldn't notice.

Somehow, in his lifetime, nobody, nothing, had seemed to be so perfect. It could be his imagination. But he didn't think it was.

_Even the first time I saw him…_he let go now of his reservations with a soft exhalation as the thoughts he had been trying to deny finally made their existence known. _I think I fell in love. Not the love that people talk about, the love that makes people know one another so well, no, not that kind of love. _

He turned his head slightly to the left, taking in the other man's face in the warm glow of the steady candles. _And him. Malcolm. Sendoh Akira. He makes me feel the same. No two people…no two –men– have ever made me feel like this._

This is the kind of love I think makes people crazy. This love makes me go weak at the knees, and I can't get enough. This love makes me think of nothing but them…such is their power, their charm, that they make me forget everything else…

He vaguely noticed Rukawa nodding at something Sendoh was saying even as the older man smiled at him and he began to tuck in, distractedly noting that the food was delicious and making a mental note to compliment the chef later.

_I wish…_

@@@

Hanamichi was chatting with Sendoh about the architecture of the house. Rukawa wasn't paying much attention. All he knew was there here, now, in this one room, three of them were together, him, Sendoh, and the redhead.

_It's not possible to feel like this._ He stabbed at a piece of fish almost viciously, then put it into his mouth and chewed, quirking a half-smile as Hanamichi burst out laughing at another of Sendoh's stories. _How can I want them both like this? What am I, some maniacal pervert?_

"Kaede?"

He snapped to attention, cursing inwardly for letting himself get lost in his wondering. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

His lover gave him a sideways, almost-sly look. "I asked if you would like to dance."

@@@

He stood, almost like he were in a trance, and walked towards the two men in the middle of the room, one who smiled and held a hand out to him, the other who was turned half-away, and slowly moving to face him. As he walked closer, the taller man stepped to his side, too quickly for him to move away or react even as the whisper seared his ears and the words a drug that sent his heart pounding.

"_If he wants both you and me, and I want both him and you…don't pretend you don't want him and me_."

Shock coursed through his veins. _They know. They know._

And then the scene seemed to flashback, to the night of their meeting, when the music began to play, smooth, drawing their souls closer, soft, drawn-out trills that framed a painted imagery of the wide oceans in throbbing drumbeats and complex sequences of notes. 

_Dance with me._


	27. Dreams

Chapter Twenty Five

[A few days later]

He was so tired.

As he moved up the last few steps of the flight of stairs, he paused, shaking his auburn hair out his eyes. The past few days had been hectic, what with all the wedding plans being put on hold. He didn't know if he would ever regain the mentality to go through with it, but Haruko had understood enough to agree to postpone the marriage for a while, after he had met her, and explain his confusion. He had told her that he was troubled and that he had to clear his mind up if he were to marry her with no regrets. 

*Flashback

Slowly, a pair of arms encircled him, even as they began to move gently to the sounds of crashing waves and fluted winds. It was then that he had been lost, in a haze of dreamy pleasure and certainty that this was right. It felt right. He closed his eyes and leaned against a broad shoulder, as they rocked together, humming softly with the music and reveling in the touch of each other…

*End of Flashback

Sakuragi Hanamichi pushed the swinging door open and stepped out into the familiar corridor, pausing as his eyes took in the brightness and adjusted to it. As he moved silently towards his apartment, the third door on the left, his hands fumbled in his pocket for the key. 

*Flashback

The night passed in flashes. He was held tight against cool white sheets, stroked and explored in places he never knew existed to feel like that, and filled so satisfyingly it was almost against his will. It was a drunk, heady emotion that overtook him now, and made him do the things he had never imaged he could, or would, do. 

_If this is a dream…let me have it this one night…_

*End of Flashback

Finding it, he put it in the lock and turned it just as a hand reached out from his left and pulled the door shut.

*Flashback

He woke the next morning to soft breathing beside him, and opened his eyes to see a fair face that, for all it's beauty and maturity, at that moment appeared nothing more than the naïve and innocent mask that could only be witnessed in sleep. 

It was cool, but not cold. Sunlight was filtering in through the tall windows of the opposite wall, reflecting dappling beams on the polished floor and across the bed, and their skin. Turning his head slowly, he saw another, porcelain-skinned man, his ease apparent even in slumber, his features so rid of worldly emotion that he was touched to reach out a hand and pass it over one smooth cheek, just a swift brush. 

What if it had all been a mistake?

He didn't know what had happened. Or what would happen. Getting up as unobtrusively as he could, he searched on the floor for his discarded clothes, pulled them on quickly, and walked to the door.

At the doorway though, he turned back, against the nagging insistence that he was doing the wrong thing, and envied them. Then he opened the door quietly and left.

_What have I done?_

*End of Flashback

A low chuckle, and he turned to meet a pair of smiling, tired blue eyes which brightened the small smile on full rose-red lips he remembered vividly. Even the scent of him was familiar, comforting and alive. But there was something else… 

__

All you have to do is close your eyes and just reach out your hands

And touch me, hold me close don't ever let me go

More than words, is all I ever needed you to show

Then you wouldn't have to say

That you love me 

'Cause I'd already know

Over that broad shoulder was another equally bright, calm sapphire gaze that took his breath away.

"Hanamichi."

The End


End file.
